<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Ignite the Moon by verulams (finnlogan)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004991">Ignite the Moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnlogan/pseuds/verulams'>verulams (finnlogan)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Borderlands (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, M/M, Star Trek AU, Starfleet Academy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:13:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnlogan/pseuds/verulams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A snippet of something.</p>
<p>Rhys gets accepted into Starfleet Academy. </p>
<p>He'd failed the combat portion, but someone seems to be looking out for him. Jack Lawrence, he repeats to himself. Jack Lawrence was the guy looking out for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ignite the Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Listen, I’m not-” He splays his fingers and then drops them to his lap. “I’m trying to get across that I th- I have what it takes. I’m not here because it was the easy choice, I’m here because I think I could do something </span>
  <em>
    <span>good.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And of course, Rhys really thinks he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The trouble is, he’s not sure he’s cut out for command, and his coding and skills with machines put him somewhere firmly in Engineering. And he wants to be out there, he wants to be on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bridge.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wants to see stars in full flight in his eyes, reflecting off shiny chrome and the blank white that was standard for ships these days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he does think he can help, sure. But he also really really wants to feel-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to feel it. And maybe it’s a worry that he’s staking too much of his life in this Starfleet plan but in all honestly, he’s goddamn </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wants to be the person people </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> about. And he wants to be on those ships in any way he can, at this point, so if he has to be in the deep underbelly of a starship a million miles deep in space, then so goddamn be it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The admiralty look at him, cold and serious and set out in a long line above him. Silence falls, and Rhys takes a second to glance around the chrome and metal room that seems almost as severe as the people in front of him. They glance between one another until finally, one on the end clears his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s- Well. He’s not in a uniform, for one thing, instead kitted out in an undersuit that Rhys knows that combat teachers wear because he’d heard it from Fiona.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see, Rhys- can I call you Rhys?” He smiles and Rhys has to double-take, because the voice that booms out is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the curt tone he’d been expecting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean-” He blinks. “Yes, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And the man smiles a billion-dollar grin, face split and teeth white against the tan of his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Rhys, we’re-” and he seems to notice one of the admiralty narrowing their eyes, so he laughs softly and starts again. “Rhys, I’m interested in you. Your, uh. Your arm. Is it… what is it? Atlas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys blinks again, and swallows heavily. “Um. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sir.” And the man smiles even more widely. “I basically built it myself and then- installed some Atlas cladding and the- the fingers? Those are Atlas too.” He fiddles with his fingers and then, a beat later, remembers to tack a “Sir,” on the end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm.” He says. “And how long did it take to build?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clasps his hands together to stop him from tapping them, and says: “About a month or two. The software was the hardest bit, I had some friends working for Atlas at the time and they helped me source the parts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.” He scribbles something down on his tablet. The admiralty, sitting next to him, look quietly approving and he thanks fucking god that whoever this guy was, he seemed to be in Rhys’ camp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And, uh,” The man glances at his tablet and then smiles crookedly. “How long did it take you to do your hair this morning?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys- his mouth falls open. It’s not the most flattering thing he’s ever been asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if the rest of the admiralty raise their eyebrows he doesn’t notice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About-” he stutters. “About- Half- Half an hour? Give or take?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man smiles, still. He’s like a goddamn Cheshire cat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm.” He writes something on his tablet, before- “Looks good,” he comments off-handedly, and almost immediately he hears a sigh erupt from the line of solemnity before him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gruff voice comes from the left. “Okay, Jack. That’s enough.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack still smiles but sits back lazily in his chair. He’s- Rhys wouldn’t say staring, but there’s a line-of-sight thing going on where he isn’t quite sure what to do except look back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So that’s exactly what he does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Jack </span>
  <em>
    <span>winks</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him, and he feels heat shoot into his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>So,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>says the gruff voice. “Thank you for coming in today, Mr Lynsey. If you’d like to wait outside, please, you will be called when our decision has been made.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Rhys stands up, tries very hard not to trip over his feet, says, “Thank you, admirals,” and then he just. Leaves. He walks out of the door and doesn’t fall over and doesn’t struggle with the lock and it all works remarkably well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits on an uncomfortable modern chair in the hallway and tries not to bite his nails in nerves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s been waiting on this meeting for </span>
  <em>
    <span>months,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he hadn’t expected to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>winked at.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d expected scorn, he’d expected something a little more difficult than a conversation about what he could bring to Starfleet, and then to have- to have Jack </span>
  <em>
    <span>flirt</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him- if that </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>flirting, of course. Rhys wasn’t always the best at picking that up. Vaughn had always said when he worked as a barista that time that all of his customers had flirted with him, but he’d been too busy figuring out his sexuality then to really think about actual physical flirting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that it was good to worry about that </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he was really very busy focussing on the fact that he’d been flirted with by a handsome man in an admiralty meeting and-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, the door opens, and Jack comes reeling out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And beneath that table was apparently hiding something Rhys can get </span>
  <em>
    <span>into</span>
  </em>
  <span>, especially now the admiralty weren’t peering over his shoulder. His shoulders were broad, arms stretching at the material of his undershirt, and he wasn’t by any stretch </span>
  <em>
    <span>short.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The man was </span>
  <em>
    <span>big,</span>
  </em>
  <span> imposing, and by the time Rhys has finished his once over he’s standing in what was for all intents and purposes a </span>
  <em>
    <span>power stance.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Rhys,” he says. He’s not smiling now, face serious but eyes light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys’ mouth opens and closes and no sounds come out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughs as sits down next to Rhys, clapping him roughly on the shoulder as Rhys diverts his gaze between the gray floor and Jack’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, they’re not done yet, I just thought I’d come and chill with you out here. You doing okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Uh,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rhys says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Cool. Anyway, I’m Jack Lawrence, and I’m a professor at the academy.” He relaxes and leans back. “You can call me Jack.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys’ mouth snaps shut. “Rhys,” he offers. “Rhys Lynsey.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack raises his eyebrows again. “I know, kid. Anyway, I’d be teaching you combat and maybe a couple of robotics modules. Get that rough-and-tumble in there at the same time as all of that </span>
  <em>
    <span>refined robotics</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you get me?” He says, rolling the r’s on his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At the same time?” says Rhys. “That’s kind of impractical.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No shit, brainiac, I don’t mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the same time. Though we could try it. Have you fight Zer0 or something, I’m sure that would count. Probably, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Zer0?” asks Rhys.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” says Jack. “Works as an instructor, too. Good with, uh.” he waves his hands in the air in chopping motions. “Good with swords, you know?” He leans further back in his chair and plants his hands behind his head. “Anyway, not to worry. It’s only a decision that’ll dictate the rest of your life they’re making.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” says Rhys. “Very reassuring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack snorts. “How come you needed this meeting anyway? You passed all of the tests, I saw your results myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys nods sheepishly. “Failed combat by three marks.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Ah.” He smiles. “Well, we’re gonna have to toughen you up, aren’t we?” He punches Rhys on the shoulder, and laughs when Rhys rubs it gingerly. “Yeah,</span> <span>we’re </span><em><span>really </span></em><span>gonna have to toughen you up. We’re talking extracurricular, the whole shebang-”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>The door opens and he falls silent. Rhys stands immediately, at attention, as Jack only smiles lazily and gives the tall woman a little wave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rhys Lynsey,” she says. “If you’d like to…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ushers him in, and he scuttles back into his chair afront the now slightly softer faces. And he has it in him to think that they’re about to make his life. He has it in him to think this might be it-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rhys Lynsey,” she says again. “I, Lady Aurelia Hammerlock, am hereby informing you of your-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys holds his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Acceptance</span>
  </em>
  <span> into Starfleet Academy-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He rears up out of his chair, pushing it backwards and laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, he catches eyes with Hammerlock’s steely gaze, and slowly sits back down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clears his throat. “Sorry, L-Lady Hammerlock.” He coughs. “Please do carry on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack, from his seat, is visibly amused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quite,” she says. “As I was saying, Mr. Lynsey, your </span>
  <em>
    <span>acceptance</span>
  </em>
  <span> into Starfleet Academy, is </span>
  <em>
    <span>on the provision </span>
  </em>
  <span>that you complete basic combat training at </span>
  <em>
    <span>above </span>
  </em>
  <span>average testing levels. You will be required to achieve at minimum 50% on all of your combat examinations, and higher if the average testing score is above that level. Are we clear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rhys swallows. “Crystal, Lady Hammerlock.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will be sent a written notice to confirm your acceptance in the next few days. Thank you, Mr. Lynsey, for your attendance and your dedication to Starfleet’s cause.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles for the first time. Jack, behind her, is giving Rhys a thumbs up like they’ve known each other years. The rest of the admiralty sit with half-smiles on their faces, half grim and half pleased for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We look forward to seeing you at the start of the new term.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>